Page 17 of The Christmas Eve Delivery

I looked at the caller ID. Evie.

“I’m asleep,” I said as I answered it.

“Bullshit, you’re talking to me. Where are you? The door’s locked.”

“The door is locked because I’m in bed with plans on staying here all day,” I said.

“Lydia, get your ass out of bed and let me in.”

“Fine.” I tossed back the covers and rolled out of bed. “Why are you up so early?” I asked.

“It’s hardly early. It’s lunchtime. You’re usually the one up and functional by now.”

“I know, but I don’t have any guests, and everything is clean. I’m indulging.” I opened the front door and turned around, continuing the conversation on the phone as I shuffled to the coffee maker and started a fresh pot.

Evie reached up and pulled the phone from my ear.

“Indulging? Self-pity?”

I shook my head. “Just tired of it all.” I thought about telling her about Miles, but then I decided to keep him to myself.

“You haven’t been on your own for the past three days, have you?”

“No. I was up late expecting people the Quality Suites over on the freeway wanted to send over, but the road got closed. Of course, I didn’t find that out until I had slept on the couch in the lobby. I had a guest leave early yesterday. And I managed to get everything done that needed doing.”

I poured a cup and offered one to Evie.

“Thanks. Part of me is sorry you aren’t packed with guests, but part of me isn’t. We have work to do,” she said eagerly.

I shook my head. “I’m not shoveling anything. The snow can melt.”

“Not that, silly. We have got to set up a historical register and get our properties authenticated.”

I blinked at her a few times. I still wished I were back in bed. Mentally, I think my brain was still there.

“We have to do what?”

“I was doing some research. If we can get the historic buildings like this place and the library officially registered as historical locations, we can keep that developer from buying up the town to build whatever nonsense they want.”

“You mean it would protect Sweet Mountain Inn?”

She nodded. “And from what I could find, it will open you up to lots of grants so you can get some help fixing this place up.”

I let out a long sigh. “I want to do more than fix it up. I want to renovate and restore. Mom was really headed in that direction. Aunt Sylvia barely maintained this old place.”

“Precisely,” Evie said. “You did volunteer to help out. Remember?” Mary from the Post Office wants to have a planning dinner tonight. So get your butt dressed.”

“Is Mary cooking or are we all bringing our own?” I asked.

Mary was a fantastic cook. There had been times in my youth where I ended up at potlucks with her, and I always loved what she made. After Mom died, she had even brought over a casserole. When Mom died, a lot of people had tried to help out. People loved my mother.

When Ruth died, I had been left on my own, pretty much. Ruth had alienated so many people, including me. But she couldn’t get rid of me, not when I knew I would finally have ownership of the inn.

“Potluck in the community room. Mary is bringing spaghetti. You need to bring a side dish or a salad.”

“What are you bringing?” I asked.

“Side dish or a salad. I don’t know about you, but I have to go to the grocery store. I swear, I ate everything in the house while I was snowed in,” she said. “And I had at least a week’s worth of food.”

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